


Light vintage

by gyunikum



Series: To be bound or be unbound [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BfA, F/M, Lightbound, handjob, it's a ship guys!, kingly responsibilities, wet dreams?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-10-21 04:44:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20687714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyunikum/pseuds/gyunikum
Summary: Anduin has been having some strange dreams about the High Exarch, but Valeera is there to ask the right questions.





	Light vintage

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in one sitting and i aint gonna edit it. ya gotta build a ship that never had any interaction boiz

Being rightly disciplined did not mean that Anduin was innocent in matters of the flesh. Such dreams and images were part of a healthy mind, Velen had lectured once, despite making young Anduin cringe deeper into a pit of shame with every word, but such was the part of any teenager’s life. He just never really had the time to think about sex as often as other boys his age would, and from a young age he’d been told that such acts for a king were limited to one purpose, and only one: to produce an heir. It had been Katrana Prestor whose words stuck to Anduin even to this day, despite Bolvar later attempting to do some damage control after Anduin had walked in on Katrana and a guard (whose headless, rotting corpse had been found months later).

All his life, Anduin had been sure that – despite his treacherous dreams – bringing someone to his bed would be out of pure love for that person. He knew that with each year the hook of responsibilities tightened around his neck, expectations of the nobles and Stormwind itself breathing down on his neck—he was nearing the age when his father had already found love and married her.

The first time Anduin dreamed of Yrel was too soon after meeting her to his liking. Too soon his mind conjured lustful images of her stripped of all those heavy armours, dressed only in her pale blue skin. Armed with the knowledge of draenei anatomy Anduin had acquired for the innocent reason of quenching his curiosity long ago, he could envision Yrel in her naked glory, and do—lewd things to her. He remembered wondering how a human would survive such an interaction with a draenei whose intercourse differed to humans’ in a, frankly, terrifying number of ways.

But the thought only further deepened Anduin’s lust—of which he pretended to be curiosity. Healthy curiosity, yes, that’s what it was. Surely, he hadn’t been the only one to think of such... possibilities. Draenei had been part of the Alliance for long enough for most of the native races of Azeroth to not look at them as something exotic, alien but as another of the many races living on the planet. Reproduction was part of life and nature, and interracial mingling was not unheard of either. They were sentient beings after all, not just beasts following their pure instincts. 

Half-bloods tended to not be able to reproduce further than their own generation—and Anduin hated how his thoughts would more than once end with the idea of having a child. He was too young for that, and times were too dire. Curse the nobles with their apparent obsession with Stormwind’s next heir.

Would humans be able to reproduce with draenei at all, anyway? How would their offspring look like—

“Anduin?”

Light have mercy on him. Anduin closes his eyes and sends a prayer that he had not been caught in the middle of a war meeting.

“What were you thinking of?” Valeera smirks, balancing on the back legs of her chair. Anduin opens his mouth into an intricate lie, but Valeera interrupts him with a wiggling finger pointed in his direction. “And don’t lie to me—I know that’s not just your pants.”

Anduin blushes and crosses his legs, squeezing his thighs as tight as he can. “Valeera!”

The rogue lets out a chuckle, throwing her head back in mirth. “I didn’t know jihui was this exciting,” she glances pointedly at his crotch, “or this boring. So, who’s the lucky person?”

“I—I don’t know what you’re implying,” Anduin stammers out, leaning against the table to hide his apparent excitement. He can’t believe he has allowed himself to stray as far while being in the company of someone. Even if that someone is Valeera whom he can confide in with his most personal issues. It still does not make the fact less embarrassing.

“Oh, Anduin, you’re a grown man,” Valeera says, tipping her head to the side. “I’m sorry for teasing you, though.”

Anduin sends her a pouting scowl, but forgives her wordlessly.

“But I still want to know who caught your eye.”

Anduin groans. Valeera laughs, but drops the topic the same way she drops her chair to take her jihui step towards yet another loss: with a loud thud and a dramatic show.

After some time, they sit out to the balcony with a glass of wine to watch the night sky in silent contemplation. Stars twinkle restlessly, and Anduin wonders if they are each a sun to their own planets like Azeroth. How many more species are out there they have not the slightest idea of? Anduin’s mind buzzes with questions and hypotheses until he can barely contain them, so he takes a deep breath, because the wine has eased his tongue just enough:

“I’ve had a dream with her. Many dreams.”

Valeera takes a sip of her wine quietly, then places the glass on the table and tips it around in a circle on its edges. “We dream with a lot of people. Intimate dreams with faceless bodies, and it confuses us. But it’s completely normal, Anduin.”

Anduin shakes his head. “No, it’s… it’s not for me. It shouldn’t be normal. She’s—”

“Let me guess, not a human?” Valeera asks, glancing at him. Her green eyes glow with genuine understanding, and though at first those eyes had straight-out made Anduin scared, now they radiate such comfort that none else does. “You worry that—your heart might follow your dick—”

Anduin sighs loudly. He shouldn’t act so prude.

“—And you won’t want to bed a woman to produce an heir, is that it?”

Anduin swishes around his words along with a sip of wine in his mouth to stall his reply. “Kind of. I don’t know? I don’t want—a child, not yet. But I keep dreaming with her every night and… and I don’t love her, not like that.”

“You don’t think you can love her?” Valeera prompts.

“I—I shouldn’t? I shouldn’t love her, I shouldn’t... bed her. But she’s taken over my every dream, and she is all I can think of.”

“I guess this is not the time to give you the talk of birds and bees?” Valeera asks lightly, and Anduin chuckles.

“No, that Talk I’ve had.” Many times, in different shapes, by Bolvar at first who had been mighty uncomfortable trying to explain what little-Anduin had just seen. Then by his father, who had been even more uncomfortable than Bolvar after having sat down Anduin one evening with the intention of explaining some adult things when he realized that yes, Anduin was growing up fast. And then by Genn who had just plainly told Anduin to find someone and commit to one of Stormwind’s most pressing issues. According to Genn, producing an heir in time was as important as making sure that Stormwind was not overrun by demons.

“I just… don’t understand why I’m seem to be so… _obsessed_ with her.”

“It ain’t obsession, my dear,” Valeera drawls, pointing at him with a finger that’s not wrapped around the glass. She takes a big sip before continuing. “You’re nineteen, and still haven’t slept with anyone. Your hand can only do so much.”

“So what?” Anduin nearly shrieks in panic. “I’m going to turn into some sex-crazed hermit if I don’t sleep with someone in time?”

“Not necessarily,” Valeera replies, easing Anduin’s mind a bit. “There are a lot of people who do pretty well without it. Y’know, some priests and monks. But you haven’t been given that chance—does communing with the Light help?”

Anduin shrugs. “It does, but not when I’m asleep. My dreams run amok.”

Valeera taps her slender fingers against the glass. It clinks in a crude melody, followed by the glugging of more wine poured from the bottle. She offers Anduin, to which he nods. He doesn’t know the next time he can enjoy some wine with Valeera, free of all his kingly responsibilities. Maybe next time they should try visiting one of the taverns incognito. He hasn’t done that yet.

“If—if tomorrow would be the last day that you can father a child,” Valeera says, “is there a human you would choose? For the future of Stormwind and the Alliance?”

Anduin has pondered over this in depth lately, but he could never come to a definite conclusion. He was always torn between his duties and the wishes of his heart.

“I—I really can’t think of anyone. I just—can’t. I can’t imagine myself in bed with them.”

Valeera pours more wine into his glass, and clinks the mouth of the bottle against the full glass. She takes a swig from the bottle.

“Humour me,” she urges. “What about that Fordragon girl? She is your age, and you have a connection.”

Anduin stops before he can take a sip, caught off-guard. “Taelia?” His voice cracks a bit. He bites his lip. “To be frank, I—I’ve thought about her, when I met her first.”

“She has a lovely face, doesn’t she?” Valeera grins. Anduin brings his eyebrows down, catching Valeera red-handed. “She would be the perfect choice for a future Queen of Stormwind. Tighten relations with Kul Tiras too. Not to mention the name Fordragon holds a certain—”

“Please, not you too,” Anduin groans, “everyone loves to play matchmaker.”

Valeera snickers. “You would marry some peasant just to spite the nobles.”

“I would marry anyone whom I truly love, despite the nobles,” Anduin makes it clear with a look. “That has been, and always be my one condition.”

His sin’dorei friend hums wistfully, moving her lips from side to side. “So if you happen to fall in love with the High Exarch, would you marry her?”

Anduin spits out his wine. “W-what?”

Valeera fixes him with a flat look. “Oh please, don’t be so surprised. Your SI:7 would love to have my investigational skills.”

“Just say the word and I will have Master Shaw assign you under his employment,” Anduin jests, trying to steer the conversation away from Yrel. However Valeera has managed to figure out the identity of the main character of his wet dreams, Anduin has no idea, but she is right—her perception is one of a kind.

“Just make sure to pull the stick out of his ass first, and then I will consider being under him.”

“Valeera!”

Thankfully, she does not return to Yrel. They bicker back and forth for a short time, talk about nothing and philosophise about the grandest question of existence, and when both the glasses and the bottle are empty, Valeera places a kiss on his forehead, tells him goodnight, and vaults off the balcony into the dark night.

Anduin is not sure he awaits going to bed or not, but he is so tired that he doesn’t even bother to remove his pants. As he lays his head on his pillow, the world begins to spin slowly, as though he’s sitting on a carousel with no music just some muffled ringing in his ears. He closes his eyes and tries to fall asleep, but his position is too uncomfortable—he turns to his side, only to be bothered by the way his pants twist on his thighs.

He undoes his breeches, pushes the hem down, and feels moistness on his undergarments. Anduin kicks off his pants and lifts his waist again to pull down his ruined garments—except, when he lies back on the bed proper, a thought enters his head.

It is night, and he is alone. No one will bother him for a few blissful hours, and the wine tastes so good he should have another bottle. He is but flesh and blood, and though steel is his discipline, Anduin wants to feel good.

He doesn’t wait for Yrel to come to his dreams—now he goes to her himself. Her brilliance sings to him in a language he does not understand, but what he can understand on a primal level that resonates with the small knot that begins to coil in his groin. She is naked, as she always is in his dreams, and her skin glows faintly in the candle-darkness of his vast chamber. The walls barely contain the warmth, windows and balcony door open to let in a slight breeze that cools the sweat that beads on his skin. Even the world wants this.

She kneels between his legs as he sits on the edge of the bed. It’s a most sensual dance move she does as she flips her white hair over her shoulder, and then she unceremoniously takes his hardness into one hand, forming a cage with her slender fingers. Anduin buries his own fingers into the mattress and tries his best to stop himself from giving in completely. His waist trembles with the want to thrust upwards. Yrel tightens the cage of her fingers just the way that pushes him onto the path of undoing. Up to the tip with the tease of leaving him, and back down to the base with an iron grip, she slides her hand up and down, up and down slowly, dictating the pace of an army marching. Her other hand caresses his inner thigh, and if not for her hand jerking him off, he would find it ticklish, but his mind has become a blabbering mess just from her touch.

His orgasm builds silently until it catches him off-guard, bursting out of him in blinding spurts.

Anduin comes into his own hands before Yrel can even rise to take him into her mouth, and a wave of shame washes over him immediately. In the morning, he will have to look her in the eye and discuss a next incursion into Horde territory, just mere hours after defiling her holy image.

He’s in some deep shit.


End file.
